


all you can hear is the sound of your own heart

by TheSpaceCoyote



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [15]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alpha Kylo Ren, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Blood and Violence, Cannibalism, Captivity, Competent Hux, Feral Behavior, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Mpreg, Omega Armitage Hux, Survival Horror, Well Aliens Trying to Eat Humans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-25 11:23:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18260282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: Hux finds himself in the clutches of a very dangerous alien species following a crash-landing, leaving him no option but to attempt escape on his own—all the while protecting his unborn children.





	all you can hear is the sound of your own heart

**Author's Note:**

> I just really wanted to write pregnant Hux put in danger again, this time featuring some scary aliens who want to take a bite out of him. Maybe this is kind of a weird premise, but I couldn't get it out of my head. 
> 
> I also poached the [alien designs](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/borderlands/images/c/cb/Opha.png/revision/latest?cb=20160123085341) from Borderlands, because they suited the aesthetic I had in mind more. With a couple tweaks here and there, obviously.

Hux is growing a little tired of the color purple.

It spreads over everything in this place, from the flooring to the walls to the lighting, cast from a a line of dim panels overhead. Even the pilfered blaster in his hand is built in shades of purple and fires purple bolts, and Hux half wonders if he’ll turn purple himself if he stays here much longer.

Unfortunately, he hasn’t had much success finding an exit just yet.

Hux sticks his head around a corner where the hallway suddenly angles in a different direction, heart beating against his ribs as he steels himself to look down another dark corridor that could be hiding stars-knows-what. His eyes study it, judging its relative safety, before he slowly rounds the corner and starts up a slow jog. Abruptly his foot catches on a jut in the uneven flooring and he nearly loses his balance, hand not gripping a blaster slapping against the wall to stop himself from falling flat on his face.

Hux takes a moment to breathe, nails dragging down the unusually soft texture of the hallway’s wall. It’s meaty and slightly slick against his palm, as if the entire passage is sheathed in a layer of living tissue. The ground beneath his bare feet feels similar, as if he were treading over a spread of raw steaks. Hux clenches the fist braced against the wall and rests his forehead against it. The whole complex is starting to wear on him, the claustrophobic, almost humid air around him forcing his mounting panic to clash with his unshakeable general’s resolve.

_This should never have happened._

Just hours ago Hux had been lifting off from N’Vidia, onboard a shuttle with Kylo and a squadron of troopers and several of the Order’s key mining commissioners. They’d been investigating claims of a new, heretofore untested ore found rich within the planet’s crust—raw material that might lead them to clinch an insurmountable technological advantage over the Resistance. Kylo hadn’t seemed all the interested in the project himself, but when Hux refused to stay home, he’d had no choice but to follow along and ensure his mate’s safety.

Honestly, Hux had welcomed Kylo’s presence, something he would’ve never done outside of military necessity before. But now they were bonded, mated, and the general’s uniform tightened with proof of the latter. Kylo’s presence eased him, helped him stay focused, even if they couldn’t show as much open affection in front of their men.

But even Kylo’s great power had been useless when their shuttle had been struck by unknown fire and sent crashing back down to N’Vidia. Hux remembers little from the crash, apart from suddenly losing his footing and falling into his mate’s arm, his and Kylo’s barking commands rising up over the din around them, a broad hand resting defensively on his belly as their shuttle began to dive towards the surface of the planet.

Then, nothing. Not until Hux had woken up inside a horribly unfamiliar cell, with walls crawling with a pattern of ropy purple flesh and veining wires, and—worst of all—a line of stark-white faces, pitted with doll-like black eyes and petite mouths, watching him from beyond a field of glowing bars.

 _Opha_. Even the most in-depth holorecords have little to go on about this specific race of aliens, apart from a couple gruesome details that resurfaced in his mind, chilling Hux to the bone once he recognized just _who_ had apparently dragged him from the wreckage of the shuttle and made him their captive.

The mission debriefing he and Kylo had been sent had touched on them briefly, mentioning their residence on N’Vidia but highlighting their secluded nature, to the point where many doubt they even still existed. Unfortunately, Hux could now confirm that they were very much alive—and very much interested in _him_.

As well as the pups he carried inside of him.

Hux rests his back against the wall, dropping his chin to his chest to glance at his middle. It rounds outwards, just prominently enough that he could no longer explain it away as temporary weight gain to his officers. Through the rents in his uniform he can see the pale flesh of his belly, expanding with each trying breath. He’d lost his belt in the crash, or thanks to his captors, though it’d been at the very end of its lifespan anyway. Yet another casualty of Hux’s pregnancy.

He huffs, blowing a dirtied strand of hair out of his eyes. He knows he must look a wreck, disheveled from the crash and his captivity, degraded to a state completely unbecoming of a man with his rank. And he’s not just suffering aesthetically—he can feel the injuries from the crash still smarting in his limbs, and he’s had to push past a creeping fuzziness in his brain more than once to devise a proper plan of action.

Hux rests his hand against the rounded tip of his belly, pressing his fingertips inwards, seeking his pups. He notices that their movements have diminished since the crash, far removed from the boundless activity they’d exhibited aboard the _Finalizer_. There, he and Kylo could hardly keep their hands off his belly whenever they lied down to relax in their quarters, eager to encourage the delicate movements inside him.

Hux can't help but worry for them, after all they’ve been through. At least he can still feel them for the time being, even if he wishes the little fluttering in his loins was stronger.

But they were alive. And as long as Hux could continue avoiding his captors, he would see to it that they stayed that way. 

After all, Opha weren’t just terrifying to look at and listen to. They weren’t interesting in keeping the Order’s most esteemed general for ransom or leverage. He isn’t here to be used for his brain, nor his wits.

They had a taste for humans. _Live_ humans.

Hux remembers when he first woke up in their clutches, what feels like days ago. At first, it’d seemed like a death sentence—captured, without his blaster or his alpha, in the possession of a cabal of powerful, _cannibalistic_ aliens. As he sat, squirming in horror, on the floor of his fleshy cell, Hux had expected to be killed outright, maybe even feasted upon as he screamed and begged for death.

But to his surprise, the Opha hadn’t immediately descended upon him and his unborn children. Instead, they’d entered the cell and stood him up on his feet, brought a couple of strange looking machines to his side. They’d forced him to stand on a strange pressure pad inscribed in unreadable script, then used what looked like a pair of rubber-tipped calipers to measure the give of skin on his arms, legs, and neck. Hux remembers hating the touch of their fingers—spidery, awful things, their tips like needles against his body as they manhandled him with their alien devices.

Afterwards, they’d sat him back on the floor to stuck a tube down his throat and feed him some blueish liquid so thick it’d nearly gagged him as he tried to swallow it all lest he suffocate. It’d been almost nauseatingly dense, like watered-down nutrient paste, and had left a heavy, milky taste on his tongue. He’d felt a little bloated and sluggish afterwards, but thankfully they hadn’t fed it to him very often—not that its absence was necessarily much relief, given his continuing imprisonment.

He knew why he was being kept and fed, why the Opha chittered to themselves as they pinched his arms and placed their wickedly clawed hands over his belly, like they were judging the size of a prized fruit. Hux didn’t know what they were saying—he spoke few languages aside from Basic—but it wasn’t all that hard to figure it out.

They’d wanted him and his pups as plump and tender as they could be before they decided to eat them.

Hux shudders, running a hand down his face and breathing heavily into his palm. _Stars_. He wishes more than anything to be away from here, safe back in his bed aboard the _Finalizer_ with Kylo’s protective arms wrapped around him, his comforting musk drifting through his senses. But as is, he can’t even sense Kylo through the bond any more—something that chills him to the core whenever he’s reminded of the sudden dark spot in his mind, like a hole torn out of a lovely, storied tapestry.

Hux had woken in the cell with what he assumed was some kind of metal collar snapped around his neck—he couldn’t see it, even if he tilted his chin down as far as it could go, and there had been no mirrors or otherwise reflective surfaces in his cell for him to check But he could feel its weight clinging close to his skin, leaving him unable to even push a finger underneath it in an attempt to work it free. Even now it hangs heavily around his throat, pressed up against his bonding gland in the back.

Hux’s not sure if _that’s_ what’s preventing him from sensing his mate—or if the culprit is something far more sinister.

Indeed, he has no proof, nor any reason to believe Kylo has survive the crash. He’s seen no remnant of the shuttle, no one else who may have lived through it intact. If there were any survivors, any remains, then surely they would’ve already been ripped apart and devoured by these monsters—

Hux squeezes his eyes tightly shut, in order to reground himself and banish the thought from his mind, before opening them up again.

As much as it pains him, he knows he doesn’t have the time or energy to spare fretting about Kylo’s fate. No matter what’s happened to his mate, Hux has a duty to get himself and the pups out of this. It’s not their fault their fathers plummeted into such a dire situation. He’ll defend them to his last, bloody breath if he has to.

“It’s alright, darlings,” Hux says to his belly, keeping his voice just barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry. I know you’re scared.” He squeezes his hand around the grip of his blaster as he rubs the curve, as if to remind himself his pups are still safe for the time being. He’s thankful he’s only in his second trimester, as he would have some serious trouble moving around if he were any further along. At full term with a pair of Kylo Ren-sized pups, he would’ve been helpless before the Opha, unable to do anything to help himself as they fattened him up for their feasting.

Even still, it’s a little difficult to move with his belly pitched forward, the twins starting to sit a little heavier on his pelvis. A little, worrisome twinge lances through his lower body—something Hux _seriously_ hopes is nothing more than superficial cramping. He’s not sure what he’ll do if it’s not.

After all, they’d only just started to properly kick, strong enough for he and Kylo to feel them outside of the womb. It had finally become undeniably real to them, that they’d welcome two new lives into the relationship they’d built. Hux had even begun to set aside some of his personal affects to make room for a cradle and new chest of drawers in their now shared quarters. They’d spent many nights in the week, recreational data pad in hand, crossing names off a list, only to replace them with two more they liked better. He and Kylo had already fallen in love with their unborn children.

Hux can’t let anything happen to them. Not when they might be the only remnant of Kylo he has left. Not when he’s already come so far, risked his own hide to keep them safe. 

The Opha that’d been attending him, bringing him more paste and touching his hips and belly with its thoroughly unsettling touch, had been armed, a strange-looking blaster hidden in a fleshy pouch around its hips. Even with his fear and disgust at the way they touched him and treated him, Hux had managed to keep his wits about him, devise a proper plan to break free of the cell—if he weren’t so tightly wound, he might’ve congratulated himself on his own quick thinking and quicker reaction time. 

 _“Ah_!” _Hux gasped, both hands going to his belly. His hands were free of cuffs, his captors apparently unconcerned about his abilities._

_The Opha guarding the cell outside let out a small, inquisitive chitter, but otherwise paid him no mind. Hux huffed, sitting up and inhaling deeply. Suddenly, and with a quick apology to the pups inside of him, he let out a piercing scream, digging his fingers sharply into his abdomen._

_“I—something’s wrong! Something’s wrong with me!” He screeched, grinding his bare heels against the cell floor. This time the Opha took proper notice, turning to peer at him through the glowing bars. When Hux didn’t stop, writhing and caterwauling to the best of his ability upon the floor, it entered, opening up the cell with a flick of its clawed hand._

_Hux suppressed his disgust as the alien touched him, its skeletal fingers drifting over his belly. He forced himself to hyperventilate, hissing at imaginary pain as he watched the Opha’s impassive face study him. As it sat properly upon the floor, folding its digitigrade legs beneath it. Hux takes one last, deep breath, steeling himself as the Opha reached between his legs to check if he’d started to bleed or gone into labor and snatched the grip of the blaster in the alien’s holster._

_The Opha jerked its hands away but it was too late—Hux aimed the end of the blaster right at its chalk-white face, and fired._

Despite himself, Hux smiles, thumb stroking the handle of the weapon in his hand. Too bad Kylo hadn’t been around to witness that. He’d always teased Hux for his combat skills, or lack thereof, but he’d shot that damned thing in the face, blown it apart and made his escape. All the while _pregnant_ , to boot. He’d be sure to use this story to take anyone who pegged omegas as nothing more than “useless breeders” down a notch.

Too bad the exhilaration from the escape had worn off quickly, replaced by anxiety as Hux had fled through the halls, suspecting he’d find another bloodthirsty Opha around every corner—one that he perhaps couldn’t surprise so easily.

Hux stiffens, thinking he’s heard something behind him. He carefully pushes himself away from the wall, though he leaves his hand on his belly as he continues moving down the hallway, occasionally looking over his shoulder to make sure no Opha are sneaking up on him. He’s lucky he’s evaded the rest of them thus far, though the longer he runs around these halls the more likely it is he’ll end up forced to defend himself once again.

It doesn’t help that the place is like a maze, winding in all directions like the system of some massive beast, adorned with consoles and displays that _look_ as if they might belong on a star destroyer, if they weren’t embedded and wreathed in purplish, fleshy matter that Hux can’t identify and hates to touch. It feels like he’s stuck his hand into the hours old corpse of a tauntaun, viscous innards cooling but not yet completely void of their former warmth. Once he swore, when he placed his hand against the one of the monitors, he could feel it twitch with a pulse.

Up ahead he finally finds a change in the area around him, as the narrow hallway opens out into a larger vestibule, its walls lined with strange runes and doors sealed shut with knotted flesh, to the point where Hux wonders if they’re merely vestigial. He edges towards the room, bringing his blaster up in readiness as he moves into the widening space, aware it might make him more vulnerable to attack.

In the center, surrounded by gnarled, organic fencing, yawns what looks like a vast borehole, its edges bunched and puckered like an old puncture wound. A thick chain extends out of the hole, feeding through a moving pulley system near the ceiling of the chamber. Hux resists the temptation to peer into the depths of the shaft, trying to keep focused and honestly a little terrified of what he might find if he did.

As he moves through the room, the smell of smelted metal reaches his nose, accompanied by the distinct odor of burning skin and the very distant _clink_ of some sort of machinery. Hux thinks he even hears a sound akin to a cry, echoing out from the depths of the borehole. He holds his breath, suppressing any chills running up his spine as he circles around the vestibule. He keeps his back turned to the wall as he inches around to the other side, where two hallways branch off in different directions.

Hux wavers, eyes flitting from one entrance to the other. He’s been using his gut instinct to travel thus far, letting it guide him down whichever path feels less dangerous. The collar around his neck may have smothered his bond with Kylo, but it hasn’t much diminished his natural perception, which has only heightened since he fell pregnant. Perhaps the consequence of some long-buried evolutionary advantage.

After a moment spent debating his options, Hux takes the hallway on the left.

The light here is darker, more blueish than before. The illuminated panels above are gone, replaced by what appear to be glowing, crystalline clusters embedded into the walls themselves, like shrapnel in a wound. Hux treads more carefully now, less able to see where he’s putting his feet. It’s already become more difficult with his belly jutting out in front of him, but the lack of decent lighting doesn’t help.

Just as Hux’s eyes adapt to the change, the pain in his lower body returns, this time nearly strong enough to force him down to his knees. He grits his teeth around a wail, trying to suppress any noise as he presses his hand against his middle. His belly expands against his palm with his breathing.

He’s had some aches thanks to his small stature and the side of his pups, and while these don’t feel particularly _different_ , he still fears the worst, with his anxiety already tuned to new heights. 

Hux rests back against the wall, keeping himself upright even as his legs wobble. His hips tighten, body shouting at him to _rest_ though he can do no such thing.

 _Stars_. What if he’s been poisoned? What if the slop the Opha had been feeding him had a dual purpose? To fatten him up, then kill him and his pups as cleanly as possible, as not to damage the delicate meat? Or what if they’d wanted to induce his labor, eat his helpless children first before moving onto him? He shakes his head, trying to stem the watering in his eyes and reign in his more irrational thoughts.

Thankfully the pain passes after a few moments, cramps in his muscles beginning to relax rather than progress. He waits for a couple minutes, trying to rule out contractions. His breath comes in harsh exhales through his nose, his lips clamped tightly together.

Hux tries to keep standing despite his temporary weakness, knowing his center of gravity is disturbed thanks to his belly. If he tries to crouch or crawl, it may be more difficult for him to get up as quickly as he needs to should one of the Opha show their faces.

When no pain returns to squeeze through his body, Hux decides to push forward. He holds onto the wall as he tiptoes down the hall, keeping his footsteps soft but urgent and his sense attuned to the environment around him, wary of any slight change. When not taken unawares, Opha typically move more quickly than he can react, so he needs to be one step ahead of them at all times, until—

 _Until what_?

Hux is still working on that next phase of his plan. Truth be told, he’s not sure what he’ll do if he manages to escape this facility—lair, _whatever_ it is—with his life. The Opha had stripped him of the tracker on his belt, probably destroyed it too, if they were as smart as they were ravenous. And while the Order might be able to track where their shuttle had gone down, he doesn’t know how far the aliens’ base is from the crash site. 

He wishes Kylo was here. Not that Hux is incapable of surviving on his own, but the company of his alpha would be welcome in the face of such horrors. Kylo’s strength and Force-wielding abilities would make mincemeat out of the Opha in seconds flat—and whisk away Hux and their pups away from this nightmare and back to the relative safety of the Order.

But he’s not. For all Hux knows, Kylo could be dead and rotting into the earth of this planet already. He can’t rely solely on him any longer.

Hux continues through the blue-tinged hallways, though he can’t tell if he’s making any progress, whether he’s getting further into the depths of the facility or closer to an exit. He’s come across no new rooms, no viable doorways, no other living creatures. With nothing else to focus on, he finds himself wondering whether he’ll even survive if he manages to escape the Opha, or if he’ll merely continue to wander until he collapses and dies from exhaustion or malnourishment, his pups left trapped and doomed to follow him.

Still Hux keeps going, not knowing what else to do, until the hallway dips into a flight of short stairs, smeared with what looks like an glowing coat of slime. He tries going slowly, testing each step before he puts his weight upon it, but even so he slips and nearly falls near the bottom, a last-ditch catch on the warped railing the only thing stopping him from smacking his belly against the floor.

Hux digs his fingers into the banister, splitting the spongy pulp coating the metal core beneath. His stomach lurches, nearly vomiting at the smell of fouled blood that reaches his nose.

He manages to hold it back, but his composure thins, shaken by another near fall. Once he’s reestablished his balance, he hugs one arm around his middle and tries to breathe through the sudden rush of anxiety. Hux keeps the blaster aloft, still ready in the case of a sudden attack as he tries to fully recover himself and push forward, unwilling to allow a mere stumble to totally derail him.

But it’s more difficult to recover this time, his fortitude battered by the isolation and fear, exhaustion creeping upon him. The absence of the bond, too, is affecting him more than he wants it to. He didn’t realize just how much his relationship with Kylo had filled a hollow inside of him, shared his strength and kept his mind sound no matter what situation he found himself in.

Hux wants to stop, perhaps take a proper respite beneath the stairs and out of sight, but he knows if he stops he risks the Opha cornering him. If he’s caught unawares, with no one to keep watch over him and protect him, he’s as good as dead.

He chokes on a breath, fingers squeezing tightly on the grip of the blaster. He wishes someone, _anyone_ , was here to give him a hand.

“Hux?”

The omega’s heart nearly leaps into his throat at the sudden sound of Kylo’s voice ringing out from the end of the hallway, where darkness swallows the dim light. He freezes in place, the hand holding his blaster dropping.

It _can’t_ be Kylo—right? There’s no way he could’ve found him that easily, even if he _had_ survived the crash. Then again, Kylo _does_ have extrasensory abilities gifted upon him by the Force, that strengthen the normal intimacy between bondmates. Even if Hux can’t sense him—perhaps _Kylo_ can.

The pups twitch in his belly, as if reacting to the potential presence of their father. As much as Hux wants to be wary with Opha on the loose, stalking him, he _longs_ for his mate, and when Kylo’s voice rings out again—“ _Hux_? _Please, are you alright?”—_ he can’t help himself any longer.

Tears of relief brim from Hux’s eyes as he walks forward, starting slowly at first before breaking out into as quick as a run as he can manage. He can’t smell Kylo just yet, but then again he can’t smell much of anything apart from the muddied odor of metal and flesh permeating the place. He can’t wait to bury himself in his mate’s chest and inhale, rub Kylo’s much more soothing, natural musk over his face, let him touch their pups and feel their movements grow more joyful, _stronger_ in his presence—

“ _Kylo_ ,“ Hux croaks, breaking the silence in his desperation. 

His bare feet slap against the ground, pulse pumping in his ears as he turns a corner, dodging a console overgrown with tentacled protrusions, expecting to see Kylo standing there, triumphant and splattered with alien blood, ready to spirit Hux away and take him back home—

—Only to find an Opha looming out of the dimness in front of him, standing in the hallway like some horrid statue, the burnt hole left by its own blaster punched just above one of its hollow eye sockets.

As Hux watches, frozen still, it tilts its head towards him, mouth inert as the air around it seems to shimmer, vibrating with sound—with the deep, concerned tones of Kylo’s voice.

“ _There you are_.”

Hux screams, firing the blaster wildly as he backs up, tears of fear and rage at falling victim to such a cruel trap building up in his eyes, obscuring his aim. He scorches the throbbing walls of the hallway with glowing purple bolts, unable to fend off the Opha as it lunges forward, undaunted by his fire. Hux’s heart plunges in his stomach, and he he turns heel and runs as the alien leaps onto the ceiling and scuttles after him, like a monstrous insect pursuing its prey.

Hux’s fingers dig into the underside of his stomach as he pumps his legs furiously, trying to flee as quickly as he can. Every step throbs through his body, his ankles and knees smarting with the impact, the swell of his belly bobbing and pulling against his spine despite his best efforts. Harsh breathing pulls at his throat, leaving it raw and pained as he desperately tries to outrun the monster pursuing him.

Hux shrieks as theOpha launches itself from the ceiling,directly at him. He twists around and tries to shoot it in midair, but he misses and it crashes into him, knocking him onto his side. His free hand shoots out to cradle his belly, stopping it from impacting against the ground. He skids, skin abraded from his knuckles, as the Opha grabs one of his arms and flips him, pinning him onto his back. Hux clenches his teeth tightly as he flails out with his free hand, managing to scratch across the Opha’s face and nearly slip his thumb into one of their cavernous eye sockets before his wrist is seized and flung to the floor, caught in the alien’s tight grip. Hux’s eyes widened, forced to look the Opha right in its impassive face as its weight bears down upon his now-helpless body. His fingers strain, grasping for the handle of the blaster, knocked mere inches from his hand.

A harsh chorus of chitters penetrate angrily into Hux’s ears. Above him, the Opha’s white face suddenly jerks with unnatural movement beneath its skin, a slit opening up along the chin like a ragged seam and allowing sharp black fangs and a thick, oozing tongue drool forth. Hot saliva drips onto Hux’s body, staining his ripped uniform and dripping over the exposed skin of his belly, almost burning. Hux screams, struggling madly in the creature’s grasp, trying to bring up his legs to kick at its segmented body, to give him a second more to try to escape. He watches, through the blurring of his own tears, as the Opha leers over his belly with its tongue laving all over it, ready to rip him open and eat his children right out of the womb.

 _Help me!_ Hux screams inside his mind as he struggles, knowing nobody will hear him, that no one is coming to save him. _Help me help me help me—_

The sharp, acrid scent of burning ozone suddenly cuts through Hux’s desperate mantra, just as a pillar of crackling red plasma thrusts through the Opha’s face, penetrating just below the hole left by the blaster bolt. It burns through one of the alien’s eye sockets, causing its black blood to sizzle and hiss above the noise of agonized clicks. Hux’s jaw drops, watching as the blade jerks sideways, slicing right through the Opha’s skin and splitting its face in two.

Before the alien’s corpse can collapse atop Hux’s a black, gloved hand grabs its shoulder and wrenches it off the omega, throwing it to the side. The Opha smacks against the ground, oily blood pouring from its mangled body, seeping through the fleshy, textured flooring beneath it. 

Hux can’t stop trembling as he watches Kylo kick aside the Opha, expression contorted with bloodlust as he smashed the remains of its face into tarry pulp. His broad chest shakes with panting, his own cloak and tunic in a similar, tattered state to Hux’s uniform.

Kylo continues to mangle the alien’s corpse, lightsaber cutting through its body as alpha rage courses through his veins. Hux watches, with a mix of fear and vindication, as Kylo renders it a mess of cauterized blood and mangled flesh. The hallway fills with the odor of burnt tissue, though it can hardly hope to eclipse the oppressive musk of a berserk alpha.

Hux still can’t sense his mate’s feelings through their bond, but he hardly needs to—they radiate tangibly from him, pure animal rage driving Kylo’s assault. If Hux hadn’t just been on the verge of getting his insides ripped out by a cannibalistic alien, he might even feel afraid of him.

But a furious, nigh feral Kylo is still _Kylo—_ still a relief.

A low, whine finally leaves Hux’s lips, reaching out for his alpha. Kylo halts, as if his mate’s voice has snipped the rage from his mind, his lightsaber burying one last time into the Opha’s side as he whips his head around to look at Hux.

Their eyes lock. After a moment, Kylo deactivates his weapon and stows it into his belt, his fingers trembling against the hilt. He turns all the way around and starts towards Hux slowly, before practically lunging to his side, knees audibly thudding into the soft floor.

Kylo’s pupils are blown out, swallowing his usual brown in pitch black like he’s become some sort of maddened beast. His hair hangs shaggy and stuck to his scalp with his own blood, its usual soft locks ratty with sweat and grime. A new scar runs over his eyebrow, already scabbing over, and his face is dotted with contusions, no doubt incurred in the crash. He looks a wreck, almost as much as Hux does, and yet his appearance consoles the omega—his injuries affirming it’s the real Kylo, and not just an illusion conjured by his own mind.

Hux’s hands stay clenched tight atop his belly, still protectively locked against the curve, though the immediate danger’s been vanquished. His lips work numbly, trying to form words but not finding the strength with the adrenaline of the brush with death still quivering through his body. He wishes he could feel Kylo through the bond, use the intimate connection between them to help ease away his lingering fear.

Kylo leans over him, hands brushing franticallyover Hux from tip to toe, checking him for injuries. His dark eyes eventually fall to the collar braced around Hux’s neck, his fangs showing as he bares his teeth in anger. His fingers grasp at the width of the collar, and somehow—either thanks to the Force or his own strength, it happens so quickly that Hux can’t determine which—snaps it open and pulls it away from the omega’s neck.

The bond gleefully rushes back to fill the black hole in Hux’s mind, flooding it with the storm of Kylo’s emotions—rage, fear, _relief—_ that vortex with the omega’s own. New tears spring to Hux’s eyes, a thankful sob ripping from his throat as Kylo presses his nose to his cheek. Harsh exhales flutter over the omega’s skin as Kylo scents him, draping his mate in his musk once again. Only then, once he manages to once more claim Hux, does he begin to come down from that brutal, distant state.

“I should have found you sooner…” Kylo rasps against Hux’s throat, lip brushing against the skin rubbed raw by the bond collar. “I’m sorry. Armitage. Forgive me.”

Wordlessly, Hux lifts one hand from his belly to wrap it around the back of Kylo’s neck, holding him close, relishing in their regained intimacy. He feels their rapidly beating hearts gradually slow, comforted in each other’s presence, though Hux is sure he won’t feel completely at ease until they’re gone from this place—aboard his ship, where a medic can properly examine him and their children. Until he’s back resting in the dim, comforting darkness of his quarters, wrapped in the black bedcovers that comprise his nest, the place he feels most secure. Until all this is nothing more than a horrifying memory they’ll keep from their children.

“I’ll kill them all for you, I will,” Kylo swears, fingers obsessively stroking his cheek, “I’ll burn this place to the ground, I’ll eradicate them from the planet—“

“ _Please_ , I just,” Hux rasps, pulling Kylo in closer as he feels his anger seep into his mind, “I just…want to be taken home.” His breathing hitches as the alpha’s touch hesitates then turns tender, stroking his belly. After a moment Hux feels him nod.

“Okay.” Kylo says no more after that, letting his bond and scent speak for him instead. He carefully lifts Hux up into his arms, letting him lean against his shoulder. He wraps his other arm around Kylo’s neck, rubbing his lips against his alpha’s throat as he takes Hux away from this place forever.

Though perhaps once he’s recovered from the ordeal and they’ve stripped the planet of any valuable resources, Hux will order the entire thing razed from the safety and comfort of his own ship. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure how I feel about this one, but oh well. It's done!
> 
> Hit me up on [Tumblr](http://thethespacecoyote.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/heir_of_breath7/).


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